


Big mistake. Big. Huge!

by Guestswithoutbags



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Lance (Voltron), Gay Panic, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guestswithoutbags/pseuds/Guestswithoutbags
Summary: "You have had sex before, right?" Keith blurted out, struggling to hide both the shock and horror from his voice. He hadn't slept with a virgin client before. Virgin in the sense that they had never paid for sex, yeah sure. Virgin as in, I've only stuck my dick in a warm apple pie, absolutely not.Lance peaked through his fingers, "You mean... with a person?"Keith's eyes widened.What. The. Fuck.





	Big mistake. Big. Huge!

Keith had hooked up in a lot of places.

Bathroom at some sleazy dive bar?

Sure.

Back seat of a car?

You betcha.

Underneath the pier at Santa Monica?

Okay, yeah. You got him… but it was just the one time and in his defense, the guy had been really fucking hot.

Yeah, Keith had pretty much hooked up everywhere. If he was lucky, the destination to get dick downed might have a sofa. Once in a fucking blue moon, and if all the planets had miraculously aligned, there might even be a bed.

But Keith didn’t really mind where it happened, especially if the trade was good. After all, you couldn’t have everything.

As far as he was concerned, hookups were a lot like that saying:

_If you want something good and cheap, it won’t be done fast._

_If you want something good and fast, it won’t be cheap._

_And if you want something cheap and fast, it won’t be fucking good._

You could never have all three.

Want someone gorgeous with a big cock?

No problem, but expect to have your hole filled, in the back of a 97' Toyota Corolla.

Big cock, nice place?

You got it, but did we mention that you’ll be sleeping with the Elephant man?

Right, fine. I’ll take good looking with a nice place, please.

Sure, coming right up but I hope you like gherkins….cos expect that….but in dick form.

Yeah, you really couldn’t have it all.

Keith had heard about those urban legend sex stories. You know the ones… A friend of a friend of a friend knew a guy in Nova Scotia, whose cousin had this friend who visited New York that one time and hooked up with a guy, a really stunning guy, who had the nicest dick you’ve ever seen. Long, pink. THICK. Easily 9 inches. He modelled for like Calvin Klein underwear or something, pulled in a six-figure salary. Oh and his apartment? A rent controlled 2-bed, overlooking Central Park, of course. Yeah the sex was fantastic, he came untouched, don’t ya know? No. Nothing weird at all about the guy. Didn’t have a doll collection, didn’t want to suck on his toes. Didn’t let his Pomeranian watch. Just a good, 3-strike hook up.

One in a fucking million.

Keith wasn’t deluded. He’d spent enough time on Grindr to know what was out there. And if you could avoid the geriatrics looking for a hot, young twink to fuck, and find someone remotely close to your age. Well, you’d already hit the fucking jackpot. Who cared if they collected stamps or had a pet iguana called Joan Crawford. That was the fucking least of your worries. Hell, Keith counted his blessings if his hook-ups had recently showered, let alone if they had the looks, the goods and the place.

If they were good looking. Awesome. If they had a big dick. Amazing. If they had their own place minus a collection of Barbies. Incredible. If they had all three? Fucking marry me.

But. Alas. Keith had yet to tick one of those perfect hookups off of his bucket list. Maybe one day. He'd just have to wait patiently for that fucking blue moon. In the meantime, he would settle for 1 out of 3. 2 out of 3 if he was feeling really lucky.

You could say that he had low expectations.

Keith just liked to say he was being realistic.

\---------------------

When he got the call through for that day's hookup, Keith's expectations were their usual low selves. Sure, the dude looked nice in his photo but when you lived in a world of photoshop and Facetune, a 10-year-old corpse that had been partially dissolved in battery acid could pass as lay-able. But whatever, as long as the guy had some of his own teeth, Keith would consider it a victory.

The address followed soon after he confirmed that, yes, he was Indeed down to fuck, and he looked up the street, expecting one of his usual destinations... you know, like a rundown alleyway or maybe a shack in the middle of nowhere if luck was on his side.

Imagine his surprise then, when he pulled up outside a Radisson hotel.

A Radisson.

Not even like a Motel 6.

A freaking Radisson.

Alarm bells immediately started going off inside his head. Call him a nob, but this had to be a joke, right?

Keith knew not to get excited. He’d probably go in to find ‘his’ guy chilling on a sofa, waiting to take him to the server’s entrance - aka an alleyway. Cut to 15 minutes later and Keith pictured himself clutching onto an industrial sized dumpster, dodging 10-day old eggplants, whilst he got railed by the good looking, good-dick-sized kitchen porter.

Fuck it, whatever. He would still say he did it at a Radisson if anyone asked.

Which they wouldn’t.

Keith climbed off his motorcycle and put away his helmet, fishing his phone out of his jacket to check the message.

In his haste to get to the appointment, Keith had neglected to read the text in full. Had he taken the time to do so, he would have seen that there was a room number underneath the address.

Room 637.

Huh.

That didn’t sound like no alleyway to Keith.

He made his way inside, through the sleek glass doors, and was met with a pristine foyer. You know the type, a bright, white, open space that exuded comfort. A large potted plant scattered here and there, sofas that looked like they'd just been wheeled in from a furniture store and had never seen an ass cheek. Nice. Real, nice. There was even a water cooler with bits of cucumber floating in it - what a time to be alive.

Keith moved forwards gracefully and with the confidence only a professional escort could have, stopping himself just in time before he reached the check-in desk, remembering who he was and why he was there.

“Uhh…” He groaned to himself.

He hadn’t really thought this through at all.

He had expected an alley. A dumpster. A kitchen-porter with a rolling-pin sized dick. He hadn’t expected this. This foyer with its fancy cucumber fucking water and la-dee-daa check-in desk.

At least with a Motel 6, you could bypass the check-in desk altogether. No social interaction required. Here to fuck a prostitute? Go right ahead. Negotiate a drugs deal, I’d recommend a pool view, sir.

Fuck. What the fuck was he going to do? He was going to have to ask, wasn’t he? But what could he say?

Something told him the poor women behind the check-in wouldn’t take too kindly to him storming up to them with a, ‘Hi, I’m Keith from Altea Escorts. Could you point me in the direction of room 637? I have a dick appointment with….tall, tan and handsome. Do I fuck know his name. You're lucky I know what he looks like. So, yeah, if you could get me that key card for the elevator, that would be sensational. Thanks.’

A small smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as Keith envisioned the poor receptionists' reaction to coming face-to-face with a real life Pretty Woman hooker. He kind of regretted the choice of his boring outfit (black jeans, black tee, red leather jacket). He should have worn something more provocative...some fishnet stockings for example or PVC... his assless chaps would have been perfect!

But he couldn't do that. Keith didn't imagine that the Radisson's policy favoured sex workers, particularly the ones that had it all out on show. Even if Keith's ass was fantastic (which is was), he couldn't see the Radisson overlooking the fact that he was about to be paid for sex in one of their rooms, just because he had a bubble butt.

Without breaking his stride, Keith dodged the check-in and headed over to the six chrome elevators, deciding to just fucking wing it. Unfortunately, just like he had suspected, they all required a key card to access them. Fantastic.

Before Keith could pretend to be tying his shoelace, and because for some unknown reason (the jury was still out), luck was really on his side today, he barely had to wait two seconds before he heard the tell-tale ping of one of the elevators arriving. Keith smiled politely as a middle-aged man in a suit emerged out of elevator number 4, barely giving Keith a second glance as he went about his business. Keith slipped inside easily, pressing the button for floor six and watching with satisfaction as the doors slid shut. Okay. This had been easy. Too easy. Why did he have the feeling that something was going to go wrong?

The ride to floor six was short and sweet and Keith soon found himself outside Room 637. He gave a tentative knock and waited to see what was in store for him. He felt like he was in a shit dating game. Who was behind door number 3? God there had to be something wrong with the guy. There just had to be.

He either wouldn't look like his photo, have a button mushroom dick, or want Keith to piss on him or something.

No one ever got a 3/3 hook up.

The door suddenly swung open and Keith came face-to-face with tall, tan and handsome himself, and...wow, okay, so he looked like his photo...even better actually. A good sign...a fucking great sign if truth be told. Keith breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps he was finally going to get one of those full house hookups.

"So you're my prostitute."

Keith's face fell. Scrap that. The best he could already hope for was 2/3. Guy was obviously an asshole.

"I prefer escort and I'm usually invited into the room before the dirty talk starts." Keith bit back dryly, resisting the urge to turn on his heel and buck it the fuck out of there.

"Oh right, yeah, let me just, yeah." Tall tan and handsome nervously jumped back, taking the door with him and revealing the room with a 'ta-daa' motion, "Um, welcome to my abode...well it's not my abode...it's Mr Radisson's abode...One of many I'd imagine but..."

He was rambling. It was kind of adorable.

"Keith." Keith interrupted him, holding out his hand to shake. He never usually had to do this with other clients but something about tall, tan and handsome's nervousness, told him introductions were necessary.

The guy looked at Keith's hand and then at the door he was still holding, as if he was deciding if he could shake a hand and hold a door at the same time. After about a fucking month, the guy finally opted to shut the door before lunging at Keith's outstretched hand, shaking it eagerly and with a bit too much force. Keith couldn't help but think how this would translate in the bedroom. After all, you could tell a lot about a person through their handshake. Limp hand - bad fuck. Strong grip - fuck me harder, daddy. Too forceful - fuck if I'm gonna be able to walk for the next week.

"Oh. Um, right. Hi Keith, I'm Lance. Lance Mc-"

"-first names are fine. Next you'll be giving me your social security number," Keith teased, pulling his hand out of Lance's grasp. No one needed a 5-minute handshake. Unless it was a solo handshake and you were shaking your dick.

Lance's eyebrows etched together in confusion, "Do you...do you need that?" He asked unsurely, as though he thought renting a hooker was equal to applying for a mortgage.

"Christ," Keith groaned under his breath. He was in for a long night. "No, Lance. I don't need that. Or your blood type, or a list of allergies....but I will need to know who your next of kin is." He subtly shook his arm out, surprised that it was still attached at the socket, and turned to catch Lance nodding in understanding, as if it was kosher that Keith would need to know who his in case of an emergency person was. What did he think they would be doing?

“I’m joking, Lance.”

"Oh. Ha-ha...right." Lance laughed nervously, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

Adorable. Freaking adorable.

Keith studied him closely and wondered if It was his first time at the rodeo... the rodeo being actually paying for sex. It had to be. What kind of idiot thought you traded social security numbers and next of kin deets with a prostitute? Next, he’ll be asking if Keith took Paypal.

"First time?" Keith asked.

"What!? NO!" Lance squawked in his face, causing Keith to jump about a foot in the air. Fuck he was loud. Keith watched as Lance turned scarlet, clearly embarrassed at the prospect of not knowing his way around a hooker. Keith didn't understand. It wasn't a big deal. Lance was young. He couldn't have had much experience in this field and it was clear he didn't do this on the regular. So why would he be offended by Keith asking if it was his first time... OH. Oh. Lance thought he meant... Oh.

"I meant first time with an escort, Lance." Keith explained and watched with great delight as Lance seemed to deflate at the revised question.

"Oh....right. Yeah...yeah...it is."

Keith smiled reassuringly, shrugging his jacket off and placing it on one of the chairs.

"Okay, so I have a few ground rules," he began, taking a seat on the bed, "I'll pretty much do anything within reason but I draw the line at golden showers and fecal play."

If Keith thought that Lance had been embarrassed before, it was nothing on his reaction to 'fecal play' but that shit needed to be said. No one needed a rogue turd making an appearance and ruining the goddamn mood. Keith would know. It had happened to him, and he was ashamed to say, on more than one occasion. And no, before you ask... they were not his turds which was highly ironic considering he was bottoming at the time.

"I'm fine with kissing, blowjobs and, I guess rimming if we shower first," he continued, as Lance just stood there, looking like he was adding 2 and 2 together and getting Canada as the answer.

"Cool?" He concluded, waiting to hear if Lance agreed with his rules.

"C-C-Cool," Lance stammered, nodding vigorously in agreement.

Awesome. No rogue turds today, then.

There was a bit of awkward silence as Keith waited patiently for Lance to get his shit together and join him, like on the bed. But the poor boy was still staring at him like a deer in headlights. Keith suspected Lance was still fixated on the word fecal, like he had never heard of that happening before. Jesus Christ. He was too adorable.

Keith patted the bed gently, a silent request for Lance to join him, which he did, quickly, once it had dawned on him that he was just stood there, like a lump of cheese.

Keith noticed another blush creeping up his neck, as if that was possible.

They sat facing each other and it was clear that Lance was nervous. He was shaking like a shitting dog and looking at anything other than in Keith's direction. It was cute. Too cute. Lance was... really cute. Terribly so. Totally Keith's type if he was being honest and he didn't even think he had a type.

Keith wanted to put Lance at ease, give him a good experience. He wanted Lance to enjoy it enough to want to do it again with like...him. So he decided to take the metaphorical bull by the phantom horns and just dive straight in. It was the best way to remove any tension. You couldn't be nervous if you had a tongue in your mouth, or better yet, a cock. But he knew that he had to take baby steps with Lance, lest the boy self combust. He surged forwards, capturing Lance's full lips with his own, taking him by complete surprise and causing Lance to let out a surprised, 'Hmphh!'

At first, the kiss was wooden, just as Keith expected it would be. He had resigned himself to the fact that this was probably going to be a bad fuck, until Lance.exe seemed to reboot and he finally realised what they were doing, melting into the kiss and opening his mouth willingly. He began to massage Keith's tongue sensually with his own. And... okay, so the boy could kiss. One of his hands found Keith's thigh, the other came up to wrap around the back of his neck, as if he'd done this many times before. Maybe it wasn't his first time at the rodeo, after all.

It soon became heated and before he knew it, Keith was straddling the boy, hands roaming all over his chest, both of them vying for dominance in the kiss, moaning and making obscene slurping noises. It didn't take too long for Keith to feel the tell-tale arousal of Lance's erection pressing eagerly into him. He grinned against Lance's mouth, breaking away so that he could relieve Lance of some of his clothing, wanting to get this show on the road. He started with his t-shirt, yanking it over his head and throwing it over his shoulder, not giving a fuck where it landed. He went for Lance's jeans next, unbuckling his belt and popping the button with expertise, as though he had done it a thousand times before (spoiler alert - he had). He pulled them down without much of a struggle, leaving Lance lying in just his tight, white boxers which stood out against his golden skin and...wow.

Okay.

So maybe Keith was going to get a full house hook up today.

Lance was packing.

Either that or he really was a kitchen porter, smuggling a fucking baguette in his briefs.

Keith licked his lips eagerly at the sight. He knew he was acting extremely thirsty but it had been a while since he had gotten laid. Ironic, considering he was an escort but you know, he did have some standards.

Lance's eyes were trained on him, pupils blown wide in lust, and Keith was going to milk it for all it was worth. He stripped down to his own black boxers as sensually as he could, revelling in the way Lance's eyes went even wider if that was possible.

He climbed back onto the bed, hovering over Lance like a lion about to devour his prey. Lance licked his lips nervously, eyes raking up and down Keith's body, breathing shallowly. Keith took that as a good sign, as he reached back down and captured Lance's lips again, grinding his hips down, creating a glorious friction. Lance groaned into his mouth which did things for Keith and especially to his dick.

They continued to kiss and grind on each other like a couple of horny teenagers until Keith decided to take it to the next level, his fingers playing with the hem of Lance's boxers.

He was just about to pull them down for the big reveal when Lance broke the kiss, his hand coming up to grip Keith's wrists.

"Wait," he breathed heavily.

"What is it?" Keith queried, eyebrows pinching together, wondering where he had gone wrong.

"Can we...can we maybe...just talk for a bit?" Lance asked, propping himself up on his elbows, causing Keith to sit back on his heels.

"Talk?" Keith repeated, as though the concept was alien to him.

"Yeah...I....um. I wanna...like get to know you before we, um...you know." Lance blushed again and looked away from Keith, as if he hadn't just been rubbing dicks with him.

"I think we're past the talking stage," Keith grimaced, nodding towards his crotch which was still sporting a raging hard-on, as was Lance's.

"I...uh...I...oh god," Lance muttered, his hands coming up to cover his face in embarrassment.

Keith cocked his head to the side. So, this was new. He'd never had a client do this before. Well he'd had plenty of clients that he just spoke to but that was his decision to not put out. The ones he was willing to put out for, well...they never wanted to...uh...'just talk'.

Oh fuck. Maybe it wasn't Lance's first time at the rodeo. Maybe it was his first time on a fucking horse.

Shit.

"You have had sex before, right?" Keith blurted out, struggling to hide both the shock and horror from his voice. He hadn't slept with a virgin client before. Virgin in the sense that they had never paid for sex, yeah sure. Virgin as in, I've only stuck my dick in a warm apple pie, absolutely not.

Lance peaked through his fingers, "You mean... with a person?"

Keith's eyes widened.

What. The. Fuck.

"What the fu- of course with a person, Lance! What the fuck!?"

You see! Didn't he tell you? You read this at the start, right? You could never have a 3/3 hookup. It just didn't happen. Case in point - now. Nice place? Check. Good looking guy? Check. Big dick? Check. Well what's the catch? Oh. He's a fully fledged virgin? Check, check, checkity-check.

Fuck his fucking life.

"I'm sorry, I just. Um. Not... Well, if we're splitting hairs...I guess, um... it depends on what you would count as sex?" Lance stammered. He'd finally removed his hands from his face and had scrambled to sit up, grabbing a pillow to shove in his lap, as if Keith hadn't seen, hadn't been grinding, on his cock.

"What do you count as sex?" Keith asked skeptically. Fuck, it was going to get worse, wasn't it? He was going to have some freaky fetish involving inanimate objects and turds.

"Um...well, like sexual contact?"

Okay. Good start.

"Such as?" Keith waved his hand, encouraging Lance to continue.

Lance nodded slowly at him, "Penis."

Keith looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting patiently for Lance to elaborate. Follow the word up with something, anything else. But he didn't. He just stared at Keith as though he had just told him the meaning of life.

Penis.

What more was there to say?

No. Fuck off. Had the guy seriously just said penis? Keith couldn't accept it. He'd laugh if it wasn't so tragic. Jesus Christ. Why did this shit always happen to him? He had to be being filmed.

They continued to stare at each other and Keith realised it was up to him to salvage the situation. It could still be saved. They could just gloss over 'Penis gate' and pretend that Lance had given a plausible answer.

"Because I'd count sex as penetrating or being penetrated," Keith finally said.

Lance smoothed out the pillow in his lap, "Then no. No, I have not."

Keith nodded in understanding.

A virgin. Fantastic.

Lance must have picked up on Keith's hesitance. Could probably see the wheels turning in Keith's head. Must have known he was working out the quickest way he could put on a pair of jeans.

"Look, I'm just. I'm lonely and freaked out. I used to think I was straight....but the more that time goes by, I'm realising that I might be, like gay....or bi... and you...you have no idea what that's like."

Keith cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I mean. I come from an insanely religious family who are definitely going to disown me once they find out. And...like. Fuck. I don't... I don't know what I'm going to do. My dad will cut me off, and my mom will take his side. And, and... I'm already so alone. I don't think I could be without them, you know? And on top of that, I think I'm failing most of my classes, I like, have no fucking idea what's going on. My best friend is like a 3-hour drive away, my roommate's a douchebag and I just." Lance paused his rambling to lick his lips, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Keith.

"I'm lost." He said, raising his head to look at Keith with a complete puppy-dog expression.

Keith sighed. He felt an emotion he wasn't used to feeling. Pity. Pity for the pretty virgin boy sat on a bed in a swanky hotel room.

"So you thought the best solution was to hire an escort for a heart to heart? This isn't Pretty Woman, Lance."

Lance smiled sadly, "Actually, he never wanted to hire her. He just needed directions."

Keith frowned, "What?"

"Pretty Woman. He never wanted to hire her, he just needed directions and it escalated..." Lance trailed off upon seeing the look on Keith's face which was set in a state of complete bewilderment.

"Yeah. You're definitely gay," Keith nodded solemnly, causing Lance to huff out a laugh. "Look. It's...whatever. I get that you're lonely. College can be like that. It's not all frat parties and casual sex."

Lance snorted, "Don't I know it."

Keith smiled and then bit his lip, "But do you really want to lose your virginity to a prostitute?"

"I thought you were an escort."

"Semantics."

Lance licked his lips again, "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you do this?"

Keith shrugged, "It pays for college. I'm not like...I'm not going to do it forever. Plus, I don't really do escorting. Well I do escorting, I just don't do the...." he gestured between him and Lance, "Yeah. I mean. I'm more of a cock tease. Sugar Daddy, camboy, will happily let you take him out but will very rarely put out. You know?

Lance nodded even though he probably couldn't relate to Keith's life. He had a supportive family, a very wealthy family by the look of the hotel room he had rented, and Keith had never, would never know what that was like.

"Then why are you here?" Lance asked in earnest as if he couldn't believe he was one of the chosen ones.

"They sent me your picture and I dunno. I was horny and you're kinda hot." Keith shrugged again, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He missed the scoff of indignation that Lance huffed at the word 'kinda'.

"Anyway. You didn't answer my question."

Lance chanced another look at Keith, his eyes roaming down his body.

"I don't think I'd mind losing it to you... you're kinda hot too."

"Well that's one way of looki- hey! What do you mean kinda? I'm smoking hot!"

Lance grinned, "I take it back. I would mind."

Keith laughed and Lance threw him a flirtatious smile.

"Seriously though, I guess not. It wouldn't be a story for the grandkids, hey?"

Keith's smile slid off his face and he gave Lance another one of his 'looks', "I would hope that whatever way you lost your virginity, you didn't file it away under 'stories to tell the grandkids.'"

Lance laughed again which made Keith smile. They seemed to be doing a lot of laughing and smiling together.

"I'll still pay you, you know. I'll tip good too, then maybe you can get that mullet sorted out," Lance teased, biting back another smirk.

Keith's hands shot up to his hair without his permission. He had never been self-conscious about his appearance before but somehow, the 20-year old virgin had triggered him.

"I'm kidding. It...um. It suits you."

Flirting. Lance was flirting with him.

Keith looked down, a blush creeping its way onto his cheeks. He'd never experienced whatever this was before. He usually got fucked, paid and left. Minimal words were exchanged. Or, if he was on one of his no-sex dates, yeah sure he'd flirt. But no one ever made him blush. Like ever.

An awkward silence descended upon them, and just as Keith was beginning to prepare his usual 'finito' speech about hitting the old dusty trail, Lance spoke.

"So you wanna order room service or something? Watch a movie? They have like all the Die Hards on here."

Keith looked up at Lance, trying not to let the shock that he was feeling mirror on his face. Keep it cool, Kogane. Don't read too much into it. Dude's just a nice guy. That's all.

He thought about his options. It's not like he had other plans. What was waiting for him at home? A pot noodle and a wank?

"Sure. Now that I know I'm not bottoming anymore, what the hell? Plus, I'm fucking starving," He said, sliding off the bed to retrieve his t-shirt.

Lance frowned, "Bottoming?"

"Taking dick, Lance."

"Oh right... and why would eating change....that?"

Keith's eyebrows etched together as he gave Lance the look. He couldn't really be this naive, could he? He threw his t-shirt over his head before responding.

"I'm sure you don't need me to tell you what else that passage is used for."

Lance turned crimson. "Right. Yeah. Gotcha."

Not wanting the mood to turn awkward again, Keith glossed over the fact that Lance was probably just only realising the true usage of an asshole.

"So which Die Hard you thinking?"

Lance snapped himself out of his reverie, his own t-shirt halfway over his head, "Well we can't watch the first one, as it's a Christmas film."

Keith objected immediately, "What? How is it a fucking Christmas film?!"

"Um....duh?! Like it's set around the holidays. The shit hits the fan at the office Christmas party? Um, hello? There's fucking snow!"

"It's the least Christmassy film ever."

"Well, you're wrong, but whatever. I say we watch number 3."

Keith rolled his eyes, "Why, because it's October?"

Lance ignored him, eyes going wide at the screen, "OH MY GOD, THEY HAVE THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA!"

Keith cocked his eyebrow at him, "Tell me again, how your family doesn't know that you're gay?"

"Fuck you, it's a classic."

"Classic," Keith repeated, nodding sarcastically, "We'll agree to disagree on that."

"Well, what would you deem as a 'classic'?"

"I dunno...like Shawshank Redemption? Schindler's List?"

Lance exaggerated rolling his eyes, "Oh....you're one of those people,"

"Fuck off", Keith laughed biffing him with a pillow.

\-------------------

Four hours, two movies, several tubs of ice cream and a large pizza later, Keith was finally getting ready to leave what was quite frankly the weirdest yet oddly satisfying 'hook-ups' he'd ever had.

They'd talked, laughed and argued with each other, as if they had been lifelong friends, rather than strangers who had used an escort agency to meet.

"Well, this has been fun," Keith began, grabbing his jacket off the chair.

"Liar," Lance replied, moving off the bed towards his jeans.

"No. It really has. I...had a good time."

"Really?"

"Really."

Lance went to open his wallet but Keith stopped him.

"It's fine. I don't...um. You don't have to pay me, Lance."

Lance looked up at him in confusion, "But-"

"-Honestly. I meant it. I...I had a good time."

Lance smiled shyly, "Me too."

"Okay, so..." Keith trailed off, making his way to the door.

"Hey, Keith?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"It's fine..."

"No. I mean it...thank you. For like everything. For listening to me and...and not making fun of me. I...I really. appreciate it."

Keith smiled and found himself saying, "Anytime." What was more surprising was that he found himself actually meaning it.

Lance's eyes widened slightly, "Right. Cool."

"Goodbye, Lance," Keith smiled one last time before stepping out into the hallway and closing Room 637 behind him, immediately chastising himself for not giving Lance his number. He hesitated, willing himself to knock on the door. But who was he kidding? He was an escort, and Lance was...well not an escort. 'This isn't Pretty Woman, Lance' he remembered saying, shaking his head and walking towards the elevators. This had been a hookup....a weird hook-up but a hook-up nonetheless. Yeah, he hadn't been paid for it but that didn't excuse the fact that he would have, if it had gone differently.

Pressing the button for the ground floor, Keith waited for the doors to slide shut and put him out of his misery.

"Keith! Hey! Wait up!"

Keith looked up to see Lance running down the corridor towards him.

"Lance?"

The doors began sliding shut and before Keith could react, Lance had shoved his arm through, stopping them.

"Hey. I...I, you forgot this," he stammered, shoving a piece of paper into Keith's chest, looking embarrassed but determined.

Keith took it, unfolding it quickly to find what he assumed to be Lance's phone number, scrawled messily onto the paper.

He bit back a smile. "Your. Your phone number."

"Well...you did say anytime."

"I did."

"Yeah, so...like, text me?"

Keith nodded, finally looking up from the note and at Lance, "Okay."

"Okay," Lance repeated.

It felt like it wasn't enough, like they should do or say something else. But they didn't. Lance smiled again and stepped back, no longer obstructing the doors from doing their job.

Keith watched as they began to close again.

"Bye," he breathed, looking Lance in the eye.

"Bye."

The doors were almost sealed shut when they stopped again, jerking apart.

Keith didn't have time to react before Lance was surging forwards, his lips locking with Keith's, one hand on his waist pulling him towards him, the other in his hair. It was desperate, hungry and heated. Keith's eyes fluttered shut, as he kissed back eagerly, his hands coming up to fist Lance's t-shirt, as though he couldn't get close enough.

Lance broke the kiss as quickly as he’d started it, pressing his forehead against Keith's, "Bye," he breathed, stepping away from the doors again.

Keith smiled shyly, one of his hands reaching up and touching his lips nervously. "Bye."

The elevator doors slid shut.

Keith began the descent to the ground floor.

The smile never left his face.

Best hook-up ever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @Guestswithoutbags on Tumblr if you wanna stop by and say heyyyyyyy :)


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